Emrys was so relieved that Christobal was following his direction that he nearly forgot to grab his wand and vanish the holes in his earlobes left by the now pocketed earrings. He managed to get it clear just in time for his niece (or whoever) to waltz in, as though she owned the place. What he had ever done to make this house seem hospitable, he had no idea. If he ever figured it out, he'd make sure none of her younger siblings/cousins/half-siblings/whatevers got the same impression, that was for sure. What sort of life did they think he was leading, that they thought he would apparently be open to sudden intrusions by teenagers?

Mommy dearest would be Ambrosia, he supposed, and given what he knew of the woman he had no difficulty believing that she might have been disagreeable at the moment — though given what he knew of the general situation of that household, suspected that she likely had very good reason to be.

"Well, then," he said, not sure how to comment on that. "I was just... finishing breakfast," he said, gesturing vaguely at Christobal's plate. The chair was still pulled out and it occurred to him that the girl might, possibly, be able to see the man hidden below the table if she chanced to look down, or maybe not — he wasn't sure of the angle. Either way, he didn't want that, so he sat at the table and pulled the chair back in, effectively blocking her view — and accidentally kicking Christobal as he did so.